


Animal Instinct

by gwydionx



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 16:25:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8453446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwydionx/pseuds/gwydionx
Summary: Jason's turned into a cat by a rogue magician. Dick does his best to help - if he can manage to stop laughing.Crack!fic with undertones of JayDick angst.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this idea jumped into my brain and didn't let go. Couple of disclaimers: This isn't a sweet Jay/Dick fic. It's a functional dysfunctional relationship fic with undertones of angst. Because when are things ever simple. 
> 
> Also, established Bruce/Hal is present, but in the background. :)
> 
> Based on a prompt from [JayDick Week 3](https://www.tumblr.com/search/jaydickweek3) on Tumblr. ("Animal/Shapeshifter")

“It’s not funny,” Jason snarled.

Dick tried to hide a grin, and failed miserably. “Oh, come on… It’s a little funny.”

Dick sat upright in his bed, tablet in one hand and coffee—blessed, sweet nectar of the gods—in the other. He’d barely gotten to bed two hours ago. It had been a long night on patrol, and when he arrived home at five, he’d just wanted to collapse and not get up till Monday.

But some things just took priority. Like the cat sitting on the blankets in front of him, glaring with murderous fury. A black tomcat with sinister yellow eyes—and wouldn’t that just figure.

Dick had woken to a small paw batting at his face, Jason’s rough voice growling at him: “Wake up, asshat.” His immediate response was a groan—what the hell was Jason doing, letting a cat in here? Wasn’t bringing home pets a relationship thing? They’d specifically agreed this wasn’t a relationship thing.

“Go to hell, Jay,” he’d mumbled. “It’s not even noon.”

“Been there, done that, got the t-shirt,” Jason growled. “I’ve got bigger problems right now.”

That’s when Dick had opened his eyes. It took all of two seconds to realize the cat glaring at him with murderous intent was Jason. And less than a second for Dick to burst out laughing.

Full-on, deep-belly, nearly fell over because he couldn’t breathe laughter. He tried to control himself, he really did. But every time he’d manage to rein it in, Jason would growl something else, and the absurdity of his voice—completely unchanged, the deep, gravely voice of the badass vigilante—coming from a two-pound ball of black fur, would send Dick over into another uncontrollable fit.

Finally he’d retreated to the kitchen for coffee and a couple of Poptarts. He didn’t even bother with clothes—Jason had seen it all, and was in no position to judge anyway. Break into a guy’s apartment as a talking cat, and you get what you get.

When he finally made it back to the bed—as composed as he was ever going to be about this—he found Jason sitting there waiting for him, glaring at him with feline death-vision.

“I will claw your eyes out, Dickie-Bird.”

“Death threats are a lot more convincing when you have opposable thumbs.”

A tail twitch. “Try me.”

Dick took another sip of coffee, turning his attention to the tablet screen in his hand. Database entries scrolled past a speed any normal person would find maddening. Dick knew what he was searching for, though. He’d seen the file just earlier that week. “What gets me is how a crime lord ends up in a showdown with a magician in the first place. I mean… What the hell were you thinking?”

“It wasn’t a showdown.” The cat’s tail twitched. “It was recon. The bastard’s been edging in on my territory, selling hard shit at the clubs in Crime Alley. I thought I had the drop on him. How was I supposed to know he’s packing voodoo?”

Finally—Dick found the profile he was looking for, and blew it up to full-screen. The only picture they had was grainy, taken from a gas station’s security feed. He spun the tablet around. “You would have, if you’d bothered to check the open files. Tim’s been working this case with Zatanna for the last two weeks. Just petty crimes—gas station robbery, noise disturbance, a count of vandalism…”

Jason surveyed the profile with disgruntled intensity. “Probably why it flew under my radar,” he growled. “He’s playing small-time on the side.”

“Point is—”

A string of expletives. Jason was trying to navigate the file with his paws.

“Calm down, Mr. Mittens. It’s just a touch screen.”

“It’s gonna be a touch screen full of bullet holes if it doesn’t start cooperating.”

Dick smirked. “I think your accuracy might’ve taken a hit since yesterday.”

The cat stopped what he was doing and glared up at him in warning. “Thin ice, jackass.”  

“Point _is_ ,” Dick said again, reaching over to navigate the screen for him, “if you’d bothered to ask, we could’ve _told_ you this guy was a magician. Now…”

“I don’t need the ‘play well with others’ lecture,” Jason snapped. He took in the info that scrolled past, then looked up to Dick with venom. “Just get me out of this damn thing and back to normal.”

Dick turned the pad back around and scanned through the remaining info. He bit his lip. “I d’know, Jay. This guy… We don’t have a lot on him.” He tapped the screen. “No civilian ID, no aliases, no country of origin or affiliations. We don’t even know if he’s human.”

Jason stared at him. “Don’t say it.”

“Jay—”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Dick said it. “I think we need to call B on this one.”

“Like hell we do! Just because you still worship his psycho Kevlar-covered ass—”

Dick tuned out the rant to dig his phone out from the sheets. Bruce had been out on patrol last night, too, and chances were the man wouldn’t be asleep yet. And if he was… Well, Alfred would have to do. Luckily, Bruce picked up on the third ring.

“What’s happened?” Bruce demanded, not pausing for a greeting. He never did. Silence in the background, which meant Bruce was probably down in the Batcave. Maybe even still in armor.

Dick scooted to the edge of the bed and set his coffee on the nightstand, trying to tune out Jason’s protests. “Hey, B. Listen, I’ve got a… situation here.”

The frown in Bruce’s response was tangible. “What situation?”

“You tell him, I will _castrate_ you, Dickie!” Jason’s voice rose to a menacing yowl.

Suddenly feeling underdressed, Dick rose and pulled on his boxers then made his way into the hallway. Through the open door, Jason’s voice continue to yammer. “It’s Jason. Nothing horrible, he’s just… He’s turned into a housecat.”

“A _housecat_?” Bruce repeated.

“Yeah, like—nine lives, claw your eyes out, tail and whiskers housecat.”

A crash from the other room. Dick turned back to see his ceramic mug shattered on the floor, and the remnants of coffee splattered over the wooden floorboards.

“Hold on a sec,” Dick told the phone. Through the open door— “Do _not_ make me get the spray bottle, Jay!”

The cat hissed.

“Not sure,” Dick answered back to the phone. Bruce had continued his line of questioning despite Dick’s sidebar—Bruce’s lack of social etiquette always hit mach-50 when he was worried. “Yeah, B. Everything’ll be fine. We know who hit him, it’s just about how to reverse the hex... Right. Yeah. We’ll meet you at the Manor in a hour.” He hung up the phone.

Dick turned back to Jason, who now sat silent. His tail was back to an erratic twitch.

“Y’know,” Dick snapped, “for as much as you hate the cat thing, you’re doing an A-plus job of it so far.” The cat mrowled, and Dick just shook his head. “ _Such_ an asshole.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic's not dead, I promise! Thanks to everyone who stuck with me while this chapter remained in limbo. :)

Getting to the Manor turned out to be easier than Dick expected. Once Jason accepted the fact Dick wouldn’t take no for an answer, he resigned himself to the situation and rode silently in the passenger seat the entire ride there. Several times Dick glanced over to see the cat’s eyes closed—from frustration or exhaustion, he couldn’t tell—though he remained sitting stiff and alert.

Pulling up the side-drive, the cat’s eyes finally opened. Dick put the car in park and let it idle a moment, watching Jason stare up at the edifice through the rain-spattered windshield. Belatedly Dick wondered what had happened to Jason’s clothes, whether they were part of the fur-and-fury transformation, or lying discarded somewhere in an alley. Another question he didn't need an answer to right now.

“So…” he managed after a minute of silence. “This might be awkward.”

“Ace detective work, Boy Wonder.” The annoyance in Jason’s voice could have cut glass.

“A, not Boy Wonder anymore,” he said, undoing his seatbelt. “And B, you have no room to talk. You sure you’re okay doing this?”

Jason huffed. “You literally coerced me into this and threatened to transport me in a cat carrier.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t need it,” Dick supplied helpfully.

A tail twitch. “Only because there’s only so many indignities I can suffer in a twenty-four hour period.” He looked sideways at Dick. "Why? Don’t tell me you’re starting to feel sorry for me.”

Leave it to Jason to make that sound like an insult. "Well... Being transformed into a housecat wouldn’t be on my top ten,” he said. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were having a hard time.”

Jason let out a laugh—the first he'd sign of humor he'd shown all morning, so that was a plus in Dick's book, even if it did sound just creepy coming from a cat.  "Aw, Dickie,” he managed, “d’you think I need a cuddle?"

Dick couldn't help an eyeroll. “Nope, that's it," he decided. He reached over to pop the passenger door. "Sympathy’s gone. Out of the car, you big wuss.”

Jason leapt down, still chuckling to himself. The rain worried Dick a little, though it had let up some. But Jason didn’t seem to mind—he padded down the walkway with casual determination. Even if his ears did flick a little bit when he got hit.

As they approached the side door, the booming rumble of Titus’ bark came from the back lawn.

Fast as a streak, the cat zoomed up Dick’s body in a blur of claws and mrowls. Dick winced as the needle-sharp claws dug into his shoulder, but couldn’t keep from laughing in spite of it. “…You okay there, Jay?” he managed.

Jason steadied himself on Dick’s shoulder, hackles still raised. “Forgot about the fucking dog,” he grumbled.

…

They made it as far as the entryway before Alfred was there to greet them.

“Master Richard,” the elderly man said, placid as ever. Only a single raised brow betrayed what he thought of the situation. “I was unaware you were a cat person.”

“Trust me, I’m not,” Dick answered, shaking the raindrops from his hair despite Jason’s protest. “Is Bruce…?”

“Downstairs, as always,” Alfred returned without inflection. “He and the Lady Zatanna are the only others who know the extent of the situation, at present.”

Dick waved a hand in thanks as he passed by, intent on reaching the cave as fast as possible.

“And Master Jason…” Alfred called.

Dick paused, and felt the cat turn its head back to stare at the butler.

“It is good to see you, as always,” he said.

The smile in Jason’s voice was tangible. “Good to see you too, Alfie.”

...

Damian greeted them at the door to Bruce’s office.

One look at the cat perched on Dick’s shoulder, and Damian frowned.

“Grayson.” His brows knit in stern disapproval. “Please tell me you have not adopted a living creature. Even _you_ are not delusional enough to believe you can keep a cat alive.”

Dick sidestepped him. “Dami, we really don’t have time—”

“Felines cannot subsist on Lucky Charms and stale beer,” he insisted vehemently.

“I promise I’m not—”

“Has he received the necessary vaccinations? When was his last physical examination?”

Dick made it to the clock. He fumbled with the intricate hands, and  gears clicked. “I swear he’s not mi—”

“Animals are a _responsibility_ , Grayson!”

Dick rushed through. The grandfather clock swung shut behind them just in time to cut off any more of the littlest Robin’s rant.

 “Yeah, way to back me up there, Jay,” he growled.

“Are you kidding?” Jason muttered. “Do you know what that kid would do if he knew it was me in this fursuit?”

“Feed you kibble?” Dick guessed.

“He’d either buy me a litter box or shove me in the blender. And no thanks on both counts.”

Dick considered this as they descended the dark stairway. “Speaking of which… _Should_ I be finding a litter box? I mean, you haven’t gone since this morning, and—”

“Finish that sentence, and you’re a dead man.”

…

As soon as the cave came into view, Jason leapt down. Dick winced at the claws, but held back a comment. He knew exactly why Jason did it—this was Bruce’s territory. Cat or no, Jason was going to stand on his own two feet.

Four feet. Paws, technically.

Dick was going to need a drink before today was over.

They emerged into the open cave to find Bruce waiting for them. He stood by the monitors, cowl pushed back but still covered in armor. He probably hadn’t slept, which made Dick square his shoulders just a little more. A sleep-deprived Bruce was not good to underestimate. The man turned at the sound of footsteps.

Bruce’s eyes zeroed in on the black tomcat standing at Dick’s heel. A moment passed between them—hard stares, and a loaded silence.

“Old Man,” Jason finally growled, tail in full twitch.

Bruce leveled the cat in a grim frown.

At that moment Zatanna burst through the medbay door. “Bats, I don’t suppose you have any…” Seeing the newcomers, her face lit with a quirked smile, completely oblivious to whatever staredown she just interrupted. “I see the feline curiosity has arrived!”

Dick shifted his attention, relieved for the interruption. “Hey, Z. Thanks for offering to help.”

Zatanna grinned. “Wouldn’t miss out on an adventure,” she winked. She walked over and bent to scratch the cat behind the ears. “Bad day at the office, puss?”

Jason batted her hand away with a hiss. “I’ve had worse.”

 Zatanna’s eyes widened. She straightened to a stand, hand on her hips. “Well… That is a new one.”

Dick glanced down, and he and Jason exchanged a look.

Bruce didn’t seem fazed. “What are your initial impressions?” he demanded. His cold eyes tracked Zatanna as she walked a circle around Jason, fingers tapping her chin.

“I expected basic transmutation, from what you told me. But if that were the case, our devil cat wouldn’t be able to talk. He’d be all cat and no human.” She turned to Dick. “He came to you this way?”

Dick shrugged. “From the minute I woke up, at least. What does that mean?”

“He didn’t have any lingering human features? No human appendages, no regular nose or fingers?”

This was already weird enough without having to visualize _that._ “Uh… No. Just a normal cat. Whiskers and all.”

She turned back to Jason, giving him another appraisal, tip to tail. “This is going to be trickier than I thought.” She looked back at them with a wicked smile. “Lucky for you, I’m an ace at tricks.”

…

Jason underwent every available scan, magical and medical, in the next few hours. Even—

“Don’t say it,” Jason warned.

Dick grinned. “A CAT scan.”

“I don’t understand it,” Zatanna frowned, pulling away from the microscope to allow Bruce a look. The latest batch of blood had been through as many tests as Jason himself, with unnerving results—Jason was fully cat, down to his DNA. But Zatanna hadn’t seemed worried until even that came back clean. “With this level of magic, there should be some kind of residual energy. A string for me to tug, to unravel it.”

Jason sat on the table, tail switching erratically while Dick did his best not to reach for the laser pointer. “What does that mean?” he asked instead. “If there’s no residual energy… That’s gotta tell us something, right?”

Bruce stepped away from the microscope, suddenly intent. “It does.” He walked over to the monitor and flicked it on. The display lit up in a larger-than-life cross section of Jason’s blood cells. “It means this wasn’t magic.”

Stunned, all three stared at the screen.

Bruce moved for the stairs. “I have to make a phone call.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say an extra, gigantic thanks to [TheFightingBull](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFightingBull/pseuds/TheFightingBull), without whom this chapter would still be in a state of unassembled shambles. Thank you for all your help, and for keeping me inspired. :)


	3. Chapter 3

The first few years after Jason got back, Dick tried to play nice.

Jason had returned from the grave—a prodigal son, a casualty of war no longer dead. Dick had tried to break through to him with flashing smiles and bad puns, dauntless ‘we still care’ lectures. Fighting the Red Hood, he didn’t pull any punches. Fighting Jason, he wore kid gloves and topped everything with an extra serving of nice.

Turns out, Jason didn’t give a shit about nice.

One night, after losing to Red Hood yet again, Dick did the only thing left he could.

He apologized.

He found Jason where he knew he would—sitting over the packing plant in Crime Alley, looking out over the city lights. He sat on the ledge of the roof, feet dangling into the open air with a cigarette between his lips. The helmet rested on the ledge at his side. He still had a domino—even he wasn’t that reckless—but it was nice to see at least part of Jason’s face, for once.

Dick approached from behind, knowing he was heard, and took a seat. He didn’t have a plan, really. Just a couple of beers and the defeat in his chest. He set one down on the ledge between them and held the other unopened. Dick stared down at label while Jason’s smoke billowed around them. Silence hung between them like a shroud.

Finally, “I’m an asshole,” Dick admitted.

If the statement surprised Jason, it didn’t show. He flicked the ash off his cigarette, and continued staring out at the city with vague disinterest. After a moment, he glanced sideways at the unclaimed beer and took it from the ledge. “Yeah. You are.”

Dick knew it was the truth. He just didn’t expect Jason to agree so easily.

Jason smirked, like he could hear his protest. “Don’t say shit if you don’t want an answer, Bluebird. You’ve got a dark side.” He took another drag of smoke, and exhaled. “I’m just the only one who ever saw it.”

Dick popped the cap on his own and took a swallow. The acrid taste rolled over his tongue. “I saw it,” he said quietly.

Silence fell between them. Minutes passed like that, both lost in memories of years past. Jason finished his smoke, and downed the rest of his beer. It was awkward, on some level, but not hostile. And miles better than anything he and Jason had shared before.

With a final exhale of smoke, Jason rose. He flicked the butt away and reached for his helmet. “Yeah, well... Welcome to the club," he jeered. "Meetings on Thursdays.”

Dick smirked. “Assholes Anonymous?”

“First step to recovery is admitting you don’t give a shit," Jason agreed. He slid the helmet on, and the final words came filtered through the voice mod: “Make me proud, jackass.”

Dick couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth as he heard the gravel crunch underneath the man’s boots. Then he was gone, and Dick sat alone on the edge of a crumbling building with an empty beer and a hope that somehow, the world wasn’t as broken as it could have been.

…

That might have been the end of it—Dick thought it was. An uneasy truce, not ideal, but livable. Jason disappeared for another six months, and B had reports of Red Hood in Brazil, Kazakhstan, even Tokyo. For one of the Bats, Jason was disconcertingly easy to track.

Until the night he came home to find Jason standing casually in his kitchen, rummaging through his fridge.

“Your beer is shit,” Jason growled over his shoulder, not even missing a beat. “And there’s something living in the çiorba.”

Dick stood there like an idiot in his motorcycle jacket, helmet under his arm.

Jason sensed his silence and turned. “It’s Thursday,” he said in way of explanation. He slid a beer over the counter, like they’d done this every day for years. “You got Netflix in this dive?” He walked past Dick and half-sat, half-collapsed on the couch.

Completely bewildered, Dick tossed his jacket over the kitchen chair and grabbed his beer. He followed Jason to the living room and sat tentatively on the opposite end of the couch.

Quiet engulfed the room, and Dick had no idea what to say. This… They’d never _done_ this. Not since Jason was a mouthy teen trying to fill his pixie boots a lifetime ago. His throat clenched. “Listen… I—”

“Rules of engagement, Dick," Jason growled abruptly. "No apologies. No guilt complexes. Swing at me all you like, but the minute you start that holier-than-thou bullshit, I'm out the door.” There was a hard edge to his eyes, like the statement was a challenge. As if in afterthought, “And don’t you fucking mother me, either. We clear?”

Dick let the question rest in the air. After everything they’d been through, years of tearing each other apart, it was a ballsy demand. If Jason really thought they could sit here, exist in the same space without hashing it out, talking things through… Jason had been living in his shadow for years. Had been ostracized and mourned, broken and hounded. Dick had chased him every night for months, watched the boy he’d known gut criminals and burn buildings to the ground. They’d had more bad blood than good.

But Jason was here. On his couch, drinking his beer. There was a reason Jason had come. Even if he wouldn’t admit it.

Jason needed this.

The corners of Dick’s mouth tipped upward in a smile. If that’s what it took to have Jason, it wasn’t even a question. “So... Assholes Anonymous.”

A smirk to match his own slid across Jason’s face. “Now you’re gettin’ it.”

Dick remained silent another minute, then nodded gently and leaned back into his seat. “Then toss me the remote, jackass. My beer, my movie.”

Jason’s leer widened, and he flung the remote to Dick across the couch.

Joke was on him, though—Dick chose _Cinderella_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I finally caved and let Dick have the backstory he wanted. (How did we get here? I swear I was just writing a light-hearted crack piece...) I wholeheartedly blame [TheFightingBull](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFightingBull/pseuds/TheFightingBull) for encouraging the madness. And just being all-around awesome. :)


	4. Chapter 4

“Jordan, this isn’t funny.”

Hal’s bright laugh continued in his ear. “Oh, come on, Spooky. Even you have to see the humor in this one.”

“One of my sons has been attacked by an unknown entity,” Bruce growled into the phone, “his DNA permanently altered, and the only lead we have is a fragment of radioactive element that may or may not be within the limits of our knowledge—”

He cut himself off, taking a deep breath. Irrational anger was not the answer here. Particularly in the face of the one person on whom it would have utterly no impact.  Schooling his voice to a more level tone, he managed, “Are you available to assist or not?”

Something seemed to have an effect, though—Hal’s voice dropped a level, becoming more earnest. “Just got one more flight run to finish, and I'm on my way.”

Bruce’s shoulders slumped in a sigh. It came out more raw and tired than he planned. “I… appreciate that.”

Even in the silence, he could hear Hal’s easy smile. “Don’t worry, baby—we’ll get this.” His voice did an uptick: “And hey, if it helps, he can always join the Lanterns. Y’know there’s precedence for a demonic hellcat—”

Bruce hung up.

...

“So, that’s it?” Dick demanded. Jason hadn’t said anything for the last fifteen minutes while Bruce explained his revelation. Y’know, _after_ he’d left inexplicably and left them all wondering in fear for Jason’s life.

“Green Lantern will be here shortly to assist,” Bruce repeated. “I have my suspicions, but he will be able to tell us for certain.”

Jason mrowled unhappily, low in his throat. “What the fuck am I supposed to do in the meantime, old man? Chase mice?”

Alfred’s voice came from behind them: “You do, and young Master Damian will be sorely disappointed in you.”

Dick turned to find the butler composed as always, emerging into the cave with Tim at his side. The kid looked like he’d just come from school—Dick hadn’t realized the entire morning had passed. No wonder his stomach was growling.

“So, let’s see if I’ve got this right,” Tim said. Alfred must have briefed him on the way down, because he didn’t even double-take at the talking cat now sitting on the desk at Dick’s elbow. “We’ve got one of the most unstable, violent criminals in the Gotham underworld sitting in the Batcave. Just chilling.”

“I can actually hear you,” Jason retorted, though Dick could swear he heard a note of fondness beneath the edges. “Also, fuck you.”

“ _Jason_ ,” Bruce growled in warning.

“What are you gonna do?” Jason mrowled. “Make me put a nickel in the swear jar?”

“No,” Alfred cut in before Bruce could answer. “But I am not above withholding dessert for deplorable behavior.”

Jason offered a disgruntled curse under his breath.

Tim turned to Bruce, addressing him directly. “What I _mean_ is, he single-handedly took over the entire drug trade in Gotham, killed dozens of people, and broke in to our house. Twice.”

“A couple prank break-ins doesn’t really constitute a home invasion, kid,” Jason huffed.

Tim’s eyes narrowed, turning to him. “It does when it means hacking the most advanced security system on the planet just to write ‘Jason was here’ in permanent marker on my forehead.”

“Hey, I also ate the Lucky Charms,” Jason snapped. “Give the dead guy some credit.”

“That doesn’t make it _better_ ,” Dick laughed.

Tim opened his mouth to retort when his eyes landed on the main monitor. “…Is this what it looks like?” he gaped.

Shifting seamlessly back to research mode, Bruce pulled up another two blood tests to accompany the first. “Yes.” Flashing in yellow at the bottom of the screen was the numerical identification for the isotope he’d isolated.

“What’s radioactivity doing in his DNA?” Tim said quietly. Dick could already see the wheels turning in the youngest’s head, tackling the new information. “Terrestrial?”

Jason huffed from where he now sprawled at Dick’s side. “’Cause I’d be that lucky.”

“Terrestrial is unlikely,” Bruce answered, ignoring the sidebar. “But we shouldn’t rule it out. Take time to review the magician’s file and the information we’ve collected from our tests. Account for any substances or toxins that could produce a similar test result. We’ll want to cover all our bases before Green Lantern arrives.”

Tim nodded, already burying himself in data.

For the first time in minutes, Bruce turned his attention directly towards them. Dick didn’t miss the near-flinch when his gaze fell on feline menace. “Dick, take Jason upstairs and keep him out of trouble. You’ll be informed when Green Lantern touches down. Until then,” he demanded, casting his glare at Jason, “you are not to leave this house under any circumstances. Is that understood?”

Jason’s tail was back to full-twitch, and Dick raised a hand to pet him, only to realize there was as much a chance of Jason biting him as being calmed by it. Instead, he balled his hand into a fist and rose. “Understood.”

Jason huffed, and leapt down from the table. “Bullshit. It’s a free country, _Batman_.” He headed for the stairs without a backwards glance.

“You know it’s called ‘herding cats’ for a reason?” Dick smiled to Bruce, and started after him. He only paused a moment at Tim’s side, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Let us know if you find anything?”

Tim watched the cat go with a mix of anger and something else—something deeper Dick couldn’t quite identify. Then his gaze darted away, fixing on the glowing screens in front of him. “Yeah. Will do.”

…

Damian had disappeared by the time they made it back to Bruce’s office, and Dick couldn’t help a sigh of relief for that. At this point, he was just glad Jason hadn’t bolted. Dick didn’t want to think about how hard it would be to catch a cat in this house.

Luckily, Jason didn’t seem all that keen to get outside—he took one look through the rain-streaked windowpanes and glared with a look of disgust only a feline could manage. The storm was picking up outside, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

“We could get something to eat,” Dick suggested. “Bet Alfred’s got something in the pantry that’s cat-worthy.”

Jason gave what sounded like a harrumph, but trotted off in the direction of the kitchens.  “If Demon-Brat ate all the Taquitos, I’m peeing in his shoes.”

…

They made their way down to the smallest of the kitchens—the personal one Bruce used to make them breakfast, when the mood took him, and where Alfred stashed the more “humdrum” food. (Secretly, Dick suspected the man just didn’t want Doritos and frozen pizzas anywhere near his baking supplies.)

“Did you really have to graffiti Tim’s forehead?” Dick inquired as they passed through the doorway. Jason had been disconcertingly quiet on the way down.

Jason let a chuckle roll through his chest. “The kid was literally passed out over his cereal bowl. He doesn’t want people pranking him, he shouldn’t make it so easy.”

“Hacking the Manor’s security system _isn’t_ ,” Dick pointed out.

“Yeah, well,” Jason muttered, coiling for a leap aimed out the countertop. “Someone’s gotta be around to do the big brother thing, when you’re not.”

The statement was casual, offhand—Dick tried not to let on how deep it hit. He watched the cat spring to the top of the counter, and absent-mindedly reached to open the cupboard above. Jason rose up on his back paws to inspect the shelves of food.

“You could try playing nice,” he offered.

“I've pulled a gun on him, Dick,” Jason answered while he searched. “Not like the kid isn't terrified of me already. I'm just softening the blow.”

“What, threaten him enough times, and the first dozen won't seem as bad?”

“Bingo,” Jason returned. He clambered up two shelves to slink behind a box of Twinkies and nudge it off the edge. Dick caught the box mid-air, and looked up to find the cat’s eyes peek out over the ledge. “Knew Alfie kept a stash.”

Dick just shook his head, and popped the box open as the cat landed back on the counter beside him. Jason snatched a wrapped pastry from the box before Dick could even move his hand out of the way. “You have a messed-up way of caring, you know that.”

Jason didn’t seem impressed. “Pot-kettle, Bluebird.”

At that moment, Cass entered the kitchen, glass in hand. She glided past Dick and headed for the sink. Glancing casually to the cat sprawled on the counter, she signed, “ _Hi, Jason_.”

Dick almost choked.  

“Tell her I said hey,” Jason said through a mouthful of plastic wrap. He didn’t even glance up.

“What…” Dick stuttered. Cass filled her glass at the sink like it was the most normal thing in the world. “You…”

Jason glanced up with crème filling on his lips. “I can’t really sign like this now, can I? Tell her I said hi.”

“I…” Dick glanced from one to the other. Cass leaned back against the sink, expression completely unperturbed. “ _Jason says hi_ ,” he signed at her.

Cass threw out another series of signs, and Dick translated.

“…She says black is a good look for you,” he half-laughed.

Jason offered what might have been a salute, but with his current anatomy only looked like a spastic attempt at an ear twitch.

Dick smirked and turned back to Cass. “ _We were just discussing Jason’s terrible people skills,_ ” he signed.

“I saw that,” Jason mrowled a threat.

Cass laughed a little, and signed back at him. Soon they were deep in conversation. He barely took notice of the spider skittering across the floor, halting in the corner of the tile beneath the sink.

Jason did. Casting a quick glance at Dick, he slunk down to a crouch. Dick watched the cat’s body tense and coil, ready to spring.

“Really, Jay?” he tossed out skeptically.

Jason shifted, creeping closer. “Hey, these fuckers are shifty. Never know when they’re gonna pounce.”

“What, like ArachnaBeast?”

“ArachnaBeast is real, Dick. She’s a menace, and she’s coming for all of us.”

Dick rolled his eyes even as Cass moved past him, Tupperware container in hand. Before Jason could make his move, she’d swooped in and trapped it beneath the plastic dome.

Jason watched her take it toward the back patio door with a disgruntled huff. “Traitors.”

Dick just shook his head and opened another Twinkie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...If not already apparent, I'm playing a little fast and loose with individual timelines in this piece. Hope the resulting crazy proves worth it, though. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-ed by the brilliant [TheFightingBull](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFightingBull/pseuds/TheFightingBull). :) Thank you, as always.

The first time he had sex with Golden Boy, it was an accident.

They’d been sitting in Dick’s apartment, watching some Netflix documentary neither were really paying attention to, and Jason had been telling him about his time in Chechnya. They’d been doing this for months now—every Thursday they could manage. Jason would show up with a six-pack and take-out, and Dick would clear a place on the living room furniture.

So far, things’d been working out about like he planned. The exhaustion had come off the edges of Dick’s smile, and the dark circles under his eyes had faded. Helped that Jason knew he was getting at least one good meal a week. Dick was shit at cooking, and even worse at eating balanced meals. How he hadn’t dropped dead from scurvy was one of the great mysteries of their time.

People thought Jason didn’t notice shit. Trick was, he did notice—he saw the exhausted pallor of Dick’s skin, knew he was working himself to death at his fucking day job while he pushed himself to an even earlier grave on the nightshift. He saw better than most Dick was on a crash course with disaster. He just knew better than to say anything about it. Start talking about people’s problems, and they expect reciprocation.

They were both a few beers south that night, but that’s how Jason liked it. The sorrow left Dick’s eyes, and his laugh came easier. It reminded him of back in the day, before Dick decided to take the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.

And Jason… He’d gotten comfortable. He never would have guessed it, when he decided on this crazy sidetrack. But this wasn’t half bad, really. Dick had stuck to his word, and absent all the holier-than-thou lectures and meddling concern, he was actually a laid back, easy-going guy. 

Which explained why Jason let his guard down just long enough to blow things to hell.

...

Somewhere around month three, Dick found something amazing.

Jason was chatty.

He’d known that since he was a kid—it was impossible to shut him up, really, when he was younger. There were times he’d sworn karma had come back to bite him the ass, when they were out on patrol together. Jason’s mouth ran as much as his fists, and usually was just as hostile. It’d been infuriating.

But here, now, Dick felt something else. The way the words tumbled out of Jason when he was relaxed, not angry or bitter or vengeful. Just talk—just evidence he existed. It was like a warm blanket, wrapping Dick in understanding. Listening to the laughing cadence, Dick found himself letting his mind wander, taking in the way Jason’s bawdy smile bloomed, the laughter in his eyes, the way the cigarette rested lax between his fingers. Distracted, it took him a second to hear the words.

“—then this fucking Hulk-Smasher tears into the apartment, and Roy jolts out of bed and fucking knees me in the balls while he’s at it. So both of us are buck-ass naked and I’m down for the count, and Roy reaches for his bow—”

Dick’s brain all but tripped. “Wait.”

He felt himself jumping to the conclusion. Replaying what Jason had said.

Jason’s shit-eating smirk came out—there was an edge to it, a familiar challenge. “What’s the matter, Dick-face? Naked men make you nervous?”

Dick stared at Jason in silence, trying to put his thoughts together. “You. And Roy.”

The smirk became a leer. “Fuckbuddies in arms.” He relaxed back into the couch, completely at ease. “Why? That mess with your _saintly_ vision of me?”

He should have picked up on it. Not that he’d seen much of Jason, until recently. But suddenly it felt like there was a whole section of Jason’s life he knew nothing about.

And come on—he really should have known. “So you’re… what, bi?” He didn’t mean it to come out so… abruptly. The second he said it, he knew he’d made a mistake.

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “That a problem?”

“No, I… I mean…” How was he botching this so spectacularly?

“Spit it out, Big Bird.”

“Was that… I mean, did you ever look at me that way?”

Jason huffed, and exhaled a stream of smoke. “I was fourteen, and your ass was in skin-tight spandex,” he said. “You think there was ever a chance I _didn’t_ look?”

Dick leaned back into the cushions, his mind jumbled with thoughts. If that didn’t just rearrange his entire world. “Oh,” was all he said.

“Aw, Dickie.” He reached out a booted toe and nudged him in a tease. “You wanna blow me now?”

Dick glanced over—Jason and his shit-eating smirk. He could laugh back, throw a bad pun and move on with his life. This conversation could be buried in a dozen other ones they’d had over the months.

But they’d agreed to honesty, when they started this crazy adventure. No bullshit, no holier-than-thou guilt complexes. Just truth. And truth that startled him was:

“Yeah. I do.”

He saw the second those words landed on Jason’s psyche, the second his brain understood the meaning. The moment the relaxed ease became something darker and intense, like he’d eat Dick alive if given the chance. And hell, if that look didn’t send his body reeling.

“Then do it,” Jason challenged.

Dick’s stomach leapt into his chest, the way it sometimes did right before he jumped head-first off a skyscraper into the open air. He took a swallow of beer, let the taste ground him.

But sometimes, you just had to fly without a net.

...

They started on the couch, and ended on the bed, sweaty, exhausted, and flying high on so much adrenaline it was almost better than a fight. As Jason collapsed panting next to Dick, he could have laughed—Golden Boy was looking as unsaintly as they came, hair mussed and cheeks flushed, buried in the covers like he belonged there. He was gorgeous, and in a moment of weakness, Jason almost wished he had the balls to reach out and kiss him. But that was a line they hadn’t crossed.

And wouldn’t. Ever. Jason knew better.

Instead, he rolled over and reached for his shirt. “Same time next week?” he grinned.

Dick threw a pillow at his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off – sorry for the delay with this one. I wanted to make sure I had the entire fic complete before I posted the rest, and then life got crazy and things didn’t go as quick as I hoped. But fic is more or less done, and I’ll be posting the rest in the coming week. :) 
> 
> Second, just wanted to give a head’s up I’ve done a bit of editing to chapters previous to reflect my final edit. Nothing major, but if something looks a little different on a reread, that's why. :) (Also added a little scene with Alfred in Chapter 2 as a bonus, if interested. :P)


	6. Chapter 6

Bruce was going to kill him.

Tim crouched on the ledge of a building across the way from an abandoned warehouse a half mile from the docks. The place was quiet, nondescript. A dirty company had used it for years as a storage house for weapons shipments until the Bat had put an end to their running last winter.

And if he was right, it was the lair of their elusive Magician.

According to Jason, he’d dropped in on the Magician in an alleyway at 4 AM, and the transformation had happened there. But the camera covering the area remained out of service. Had been for three weeks. They’d written it off as an uncontrolled variable, but Tim had a hunch—if it wasn’t a random alleyway. If Jason had been lured.

He’d run diagnostics on all the other street cams in the city. Eighteen cameras were out of service—not an unusual number, in Gotham—but the way they were spaced, little pockets trailing across the city, meant that the only gaps in the route were streets with minimal surveillance. If the perpetrator were smart, he could run the length of the city without being caught on camera once.

It was genius, really. Tim never would have seen it, unless he’d been looking and had some hefty understanding of the city. But once he pinpointed the anomaly, it only took him minutes to trace back the paths to the most likely epicenter. Which lead him here.

He’d convinced himself this was just recon. That he’d get the information he needed and get out. The real reason he was here left a bad taste in his mouth, and he didn’t want to acknowledge—that maybe he understood why Bruce was so angry.

That seeing Jason like that scared the hell out of him.

He hadn’t alerted Bruce, or even Zatanna of his breakthrough. Too much was at stake, and if he guessed right, going into this metaphorical-guns blazing would only make things worse. The Magician was just as much a mystery as ever. They had to know what they were dealing with.

And so he waited. Evening had fallen, the last shadowy hues of sun dying against the brick around him. Night crept in, and the few stars visible didn’t do much to break the black smear of the sky above.

Bruce was pissed. And sleep deprived. And worried. The last thing they needed was to jump into this blind. Better to figure out what they were dealing with first—there was too much at stake, and going in half-cocked and ready to shatter kneecaps wasn’t going to cut it. Not with someone like the Magician. He’d run, and they’d be back to square one. This was the best way.

Bruce was definitely going to kill him.

He waited another hour, set in his perch. As the moon rose over the horizon, casting even deeper shadows across the soot-grimed edifice, Tim caught a flash of movement.

Bottom level, third window from the right.

Yahtzee.

Keeping as much in the shadows as he could, Tim crept over the side of the building. Using one of his quieter zip lines, he swung across to the roof of the warehouse and landed without a sound. He’d scoped out the best point of entry—a roof access hatch propped open in the southern corner. Taking care not to disturb the gravel under his feet, he crept to the entry point and ducked through.

Darkness met him. He waited a second for his domino to adjust to the new light level, then surveyed the terrain. It was an open space, broken by rafter beams and high-rise catwalks dangling from the ceiling. Rustling came from the ground level, and Tim patiently scanned to find the source of the movement.

There—partially hidden behind a wall of wooden crates, a dim yellow light, like a lamp, flickered to life.

Treading carefully, he slipped through the shadows along the catwalk. He made his way around the corner of the room, angling for a better view. The crates obscured his line of sight, and he slipped through the railings of the walk, silent as the grave, to drop to a lower level.

Rounding the corner, he finally got a full shot.

It was a creature. That was the only way Tim knew how to classify it—insectoid, with a dull brown carapace like a beetle, but nearly a full head taller than Batman himself. The thing had its back turned, poring over a table piled with antique-looking books. A glowing ball of yellow light hovered at the corner like a tiny, dim sun. His domino helpfully supplied that _was_ a sun; the chemical reactions happening in the core of it were nuclear fusion. The creature was working with a _star_. Not what he’d been expecting.

“I see you, little bird.”

Tim froze.

“What message have you brought?”

Its voice was gravelly, deep. Alien. Tim remained silent, holding his breath—maybe he’d been mistaken for a lackey.

“That is the custom on Earth, is it not?” the creature continued lazily. “One crow for sorrow, two for mirth…” The thing turned, and Tim was immediately caught in a sharp gaze of two black alien eyes. “Tell me, what tale do Robins portend?”

His mouth had suddenly gone dry. Silence hung over the room, like the thing was actually expecting an answer. “…Depends on the story,” he managed.

This seemed to trouble the creature. His mandibles clacked. “Hansel and Grethel follow the breadcrumbs,” he muttered. “Lead them back to the witch’s cottage.” He turned back to his table full of books, and with the wave of an appendage, the pages began to flutter, turn of their own accord.

Tim frowned. Edging closer, he caught a glimpse of the stacks piled around the strange being—Grimm’s Fairy Tales.

Well, if the creature was talking…  “You’re not from around here, are you,” he offered gently.

“I have traveled the length and breadth of the universe. You are a broken child.”

Anger sparked beneath the fear, but he kept his voice calm. “You hurt one of my friends.”

A cackling laugh vibrated through the creature’s shell. “A doctor harms the patient. A wolf harms the deer. Your planet spins on.”

The thought of this monster devouring Jason like an animal made his stomach churn. But at least the guy was talking. “Why a cat?”

“Why a robin?” the thing snarled back.

_Touché._ Tim took another step forward, using the action to mask hitting the locator beacon on his belt. Ten minutes, tops, till B found him. In the meantime—if he could keep the creature engaged, maybe he would drop a clue. “You like fairy tales.”

“You humans are so _predictable_. Over and over, the same stories, the same fates. Rumpelstiltskin teaches a lesson. Snow White bites the apple.”

Another step forward.

He chuckled to himself as the pages continued to turn. “The monster in sheep’s clothing. Not unlike me, I’m afraid.”

Without warning, Tim was thrown bodily into the wall of crates. Wood splintered into kindling and he hit the wall with a thud. His lungs gasped for air, there was a ringing in his head. His vision faded in and out.

“Your city has become stale, little Robin,” the creature rasped. The room swam around him, but the image of the creature morphed into something smaller—a figure hooded and cloaked, his face hidden by the darkness. The Magician. “Fractured children playing with broken sticks to prove their worth. A city with a heart of darkness.”

Tim struggled to get his feet under him again, struggled to regain his bearings. He hadn’t even seen the thing move.

“You are finite. Your world is finite. What little courage you carry is tarnished in the name of fear.”

He tasted rust, and he spat blood onto the concrete. But he wouldn’t give in. He needed an answer. “What… did you do…” he gasped. “What did you… do to him?”

“Winter on his hands and hatred in his heart. Lost little boy stumbling in the dark.”

“What did you _do_ to HIM!” Tim demanded. The situation was spiraling out of control. A strange aura had begun seething in the creature’s hand, pulsing blue. He fumbled for his communicator, but his fingers weren’t obeying, shocked numb like he had a hundred volts shot through him.

“Don’t you see? He must _wake!_ ” the creature snarled.

The words were garbled, strange. Tim struggled to make sense of this, struggled to fix this.

Until he felt the pull in his gut, and found himself being lifted without thought off the ground. He scrambled for his batarangs, but everything about this guy was throwing him off-balance. “Put me down! We can fix this! We make this right—”

“I’m afraid not,” the creature clacked. His timber had become solemn. “And there are no more lessons—”

The world exploded. Bricks blew to shrapnel, and somewhere in the distance, an engine revved.

“Put down the pint-sized Wonder Boy and step away.”

Relief shot through Tim like a bolt of lightning—Green Lantern. He’d come smashing through the roof, and now held the creature at ring-point by way of a very large, very loud Humvee levitating right over the cloaked figure’s head.

The strange creature glanced from the blazing light that was Hal Jordan, to Tim still struggling to get himself free of his magic. His mandibles clacked. His eyes darkened in cold resignation.

A split-second too late, Tim realized what it meant to do. “No!” he shouted. “Wait—”

The air cracked. The creature vanished.

Tim plummeted to the floor, caught only at the last second by a billowing green light.

After another second of pain, he dared to open his eyes. And nearly laughed in relief. “A catcher’s mitt? Seriously?”

Hal stood over him in full uniform, grinning like he’d just walked in from a stroll on the beach. “Last I checked, saving your ass means you don’t get to complain.” He glanced around. “So where’s Tall-Dark-and-Brooding?”

Tim let his head fall back against the cushion with a grimace. “…He’s gonna kill me.”


	7. Chapter 7

“ _Reckless_ ,” Bruce growled. “Irresponsible. Short-sighted. _Stupid_.”

One thing Jason would give Bruce—the guy hadn’t lost his touch when it came to dress-downs.

“You think I don’t know that?” Tim barked back. The kid had come swooping in by way of Lantern light, nursing three broken ribs and concussion the size of Mount St. Helen. Alfred had seen to him straight off, but even he couldn’t keep the Batman at bay for long. Not when shit had hit the fan so spectacularly.

“You went directly against my command, and—”

“We needed the information!”

Hal meandered around the edge of the fray, arms crossed and completely lax. He scoped out the monitors displaying Jason’s vitals, letting his ring do most of the work. Of all the people on the planet, leave it to Hal motherfucking Jordan to treat a Bat fight like just another day at the office.

Dick and Jason sat off to the side, though any minute now he expected Dick to jump up and come to Tim’s rescue. Goldie was good like that. Always had been, even when he was an infuriating ass. 

“You engaged an unknown power without any backup, any forethought or operation prep. You ignored _every_ mission protocol—”

“I’m sorry!” Tim blurted. “Is that what you want to hear? I know it was stupid. But if I had told you—”

“We would have followed mission protocol!” Bruce bellowed, slamming his gauntlets down on the table. 

Zatanna made her way to Tim’s side, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I understand your concern for your family, Tim. But you should have at least told me.” 

Tim’s shoulders slumped, and he shook his head. “You would have told B, and the outcome would have been the same.”

Something, some steel in Bruce’s stance doubled.

“If anyone’s interested, I think I have our answer,” Hal said lightly.

Every head turned his direction.

Without missing a beat, Hal stepped forward. The light from his ring emerged to form what looked like a halo made of rock, orbiting a dwarf star. “First things first—the guy you were up against was Carapace. Sole known survivor of a civilization that blew itself to oblivion ten million years ago. Think cockroach, but ten times harder to kill.”

Jason felt a sick sinking in his gut.

“Trick is, when the race went nuclear, so did their home planet.” The miniature ring imploded. “It might have stopped there, but whatever power source they were housing reached their solar crux, and…” The star burned bright, and burst at the seams, blasting out past them to the far reaches of the room. “It decimated the entire system. And the sister system two hundred thousand lightyears away.”

He could see the impact of the magnitude of destruction on the faces around him. Jason’s tail leapt back to full twitch. “So they blew themselves to hell. What’s it got to do with _me_?”

Hal turned to him with a sober look. “This was before the Corps. Before Parallax. Before the _Guardians_.”

“Meaning…” Dick led.

“…Meaning ancient magic,” Zatanna breathed. She stared as the gaping expanse of nothingness disintegrated, and the light from Hal’s ring went out. “As old as time itself.”

“Magic to us, technology to them.” Hal stepped forward. “Whatever power source they used—whatever sent them to doomsday—was unlike anything we’ve ever seen. We’ve never been able to replicate it.”

At that, Bruce’s eyes darted up from where they’d fallen. “The Guardians have tried?”

Hal shrugged. “You could say that. There wasn’t much left to go on—just trace radiation signatures we’ve never been able to identify anywhere else. The radiation signature _you_ stumbled on, when you ran Jason’s scan.”

Jason shifted his back paws, not liking what he was hearing.

“What was the result of their attempts?” Bruce demanded.

Hal dropped his hand. “Everything. The Corps, spectrum energy, Lantern light. All of it. Carapace is the literal ghost of Christmas Past, Bruce. Everything the Guardians did, they did trying to _duplicate_ power on that level.”

Jason sat with his heart in his throat, letting it all sink in. Just what magnitude of shit he had stepped in, and what he was up against. He wished he could say it humbled him. But at the moment, it only pissed him off. “Fascinating. What’s it _mean_?”

Hal paused. “You want the truth?”

Jason cast a sidelong glance at Dick. “Nah, fucking lie to me.”

Hal didn’t flinch. “We can’t undo this. I can’t. Zatanna can’t. The Guardians can’t. The only person with the knowledge is Carapace.”

Jason exhaled. “So basically… I’m fucked.”

“For now, in a nutshell…” Hal sighed, and admitted the truth. “Yeah.”

Dick crumbled to sit, head in hands. Tim’s face had gone paler than usual. Zatanna stared at where the imagined planet had orbited, lost in thought.

Bruce stood deadly still. For a moment. Then without a word, he turned on his heels and prowled out, slamming the lab door on the way.

“Well,” Jason drawled. “Glad we could all be grown-ups about it.”

Across the platform, Tim let out a heavy sigh. “…What now?”

Dick stared at the doorway where Bruce had disappeared for a moment more. Then he stood to his feet, fists clenched. His jaw was set. “We keep trying.”

 

...

When Bruce stormed off into the lab, Hal followed. Silent, unchanged. He watched Bruce pace to the monitors and flick them on uselessly. A heavy sigh, and Bruce braced himself against the desk with both hands.

Hal sauntered the room, eyes darting to take in the tech. “You know I make a habit of not interfering when it comes to your Bat brigade.”

“Then don’t,” Bruce growled.

Hal ignored it. “Carapace is a big fish, Bruce. He’s an interdimensional nutjob who spooks at the sight of his own shadow. Most of the time I don’t even see him, just clean up the bloody mess he leaves behind.”

Bruce didn’t answer.

“He’s been around for years. Shows up in one place, then vanishes before the Corps even gets a chance to blast him. And in all that time, Tim’s the only person I’ve ever seen get him talking.”

“He ignored a direct command,” Bruce growled through gritted teeth. “He engaged a dangerous suspect without any regard to the consequences.”

Hal shrugged. “He also gave us the only clues we’re likely to get about what Carapace did to Jason.”

“He went behind my back. He didn’t even tell _Alfred_ where he was going.”

“So he went a little rogue. Teenage rebellion—”

“Is _exactly_ how I lost Jason!” Bruce shouted. He turned, and his eyes cut through Hal. “Don’t you dare tell me how to discipline my family! Don’t you _fucking dare_ tell me he was better off alone!”

Anger darted through Hal’s eyes. “You know what would have happened, if Wonder Kid had told you about his hunch? He’s right—you would have gone balls to the wall TAK team on him, and I’d be scraping what was left of your sorry ass off the warehouse floor.  I would be nailing you in a coffin right now.  So, no. You don’t get to blame me for being a _little_ grateful things happened the way they did. Even if it was stupid.”

Bruce hung his head, unable or unwilling to challenge the grief in Hal’s voice. He so rarely cracked—so rarely showed that life was anything but a game. “Okay,” he breathed at last. “…Okay.”

Hal inhaled, and stepped forward to pull Bruce into his arms. The hug was solid, and Hal brushed his thumb against the nape of Bruce’s neck, just thankful to be alive. Silence exploded between them, and Bruce had no idea how to break it.

 “We’ll fix this, baby,” Hal murmured against his ear. “It’s just gonna take a while.”

Bruce took this in, resting his head on Hal’s shoulder in exhaustion. Tried to allow what Hal was saying feel true.

Then his olfactory senses caught up with the rest of him. “…You smell like a jet hanger.”

“There’s the emotionally stunted asshole I’m in love with.” Hal smiled softly, and without any further calculation, Bruce pulled that smartass mouth against his own.

When it broke, Hal was still smiling. “C’mon. First order of business is getting you food. And sleep. When was the last time you slept?”

Bruce knew better than to answer that question.

 

...

“Did you cross-check his radiation signatures against your suit’s readout?”

Tim shook his head. “Yes. There’s similarity, but not enough to be conclusive.”

“What about Lantern’s Ring?” Dick tried. “Did you contrast—”

“Yes, and all it gave me was a blank.”

“What if we—”

“I don’t see how that would make a difference.” Tim sighed and sat back in his chair, masking a wince.

“There’s got to be something,” Dick said.

Tim spun in his chair to look at the cat.

The cat stared back. “I’m not gonna gank you, Timmy.”

He thought about snapping, ‘Oh, you mean like last time?’ But unlike his predecessors, he’d learned to control his temper. The real question sat on the tip of his tongue. He really didn’t want to get claws to the face.

Jason leveled him in an impatient stare. “Out with it.”

Dick looked nervous. “What is it?’

_He must wake._ Tim took a deep breath, and let it out in an exhale. “Jason, are you… Are you capable of love?”

Jason’s tail twitched. “Below the belt, kid.”

Tim’s scowl tightened. “No, I mean…” He’d always assumed from the banter and swagger Jason had a sexual appetite. But he didn’t know how to say he’d seen the older Robin’s autopsy, and knew there’d been brain damage. That extrapolating from the data, Jason may well not be capable of that flavor of emotion anymore. “Look, this guy had a fascination with our fairy tales, right? And all the references… It’s not moronic to say he might have incorporated the same failsafe like in the stories.”

Jason blinked.

“Like, you know…” Tim glanced over to the eldest. “Dick, help me out here.”

Dick’s expression was unexpectedly pensive. He brought a fist to his chin. “He means, true love’s kiss.”

There was silence.

For a moment. Then Jason snorted. He chuckled. Soon it was a full-belly laugh; and the cat collapsed on its side, rolling around in a strange approximation of a human falling flat on his face.

“Oh, Jesus…” he finally gasped. “Oh, fuck me. Seriously? I’m s’pposed to Princess and the Frog this shit?”

Tim shifted uncomfortably.

“Yeah… Unless you’ve got Celine Dion on speed dial, I think that one’s out.”

Dick shifted, loosening his stance. “Right. So… That’s it?”

Tim shrugged. “That’s all I’ve got for now. I’ll keep looking, but it could be a while before we have another theory.”

What went unstated was that they might never find a solution. The black truth hung between them like a pall.

Dick roused himself from his thoughts and turned, looking at the cat now sprawled lazily on the Cave floor. “Don’t worry, Jay. If nothing else, you know Hal will search for the four corners of space to find the guy again.”

“Like he isn’t laughing his ass off upstairs,” Jason grumbled. He rolled himself to stand, then padded over to Dick and ascended to his shoulder in a single bound. “C’mon. I’m beat for the night.”

Dick rolled his eyes, and smiled an apology. “I guess we’re leaving. Thanks again, Tim.”

Tim nodded, and tried not to let the guilt sink any deeper.

 

...

Dick entered his old bedroom at the Manor with a pang of chagrin. He hadn’t been by in months, but everything remained exactly as he remembered it. He really needed to remember to thank Alfred when all of this was done. Not just for the food, and taking care of the mess. But for staying so damn calm every time they bit off more than they could chew. He couldn’t help but keep replaying the image Hal had showed them—the planet exploding, the sun going nuclear. What the hell had Jason gotten himself into?

“Dibs on the remote,” Jason announced as he sprang down from his shoulder. Like his entire world hadn’t just come crashing down.

Dick tracked the movement of the cat across the carpet. “Jay, listen... I—”

“Nope.”

Puzzled, Dick paused. “What?”

“You said listen, and I said nope. You’re not busting out the pity party for Jason streamers on this one. Your pity can kiss my ass.”

“Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about right now?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“No, you fuck off," Dick challenged. "I can’t believe you’re being such a child about this.”

Jason resettled himself, refusing to look at him. “Rules of engagement, Dick.”

“Right, in order to be on speaking terms, I have to be a jerk.”

“No, you have to be honest. You’re a fucking ray of sunshine.”

Affronted, “What’s that got to do with it?”

“When was the last time you threw a punch for yourself, Bluebird? When was the last time you had the balls to tell someone off because they hurt you?”

“I—”

“Not your friends, you idiot. Or your fragile sense of moral superiority. _You_.”

“I…” His mouth opened and closed. He couldn’t remember.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Jason leapt up onto the bed, and turned circles around the pillow. “No pulling punches with each other. That was the deal. I fuck you into the mattress, you call me every name in the book. You want out, be my guest,” he decided. “But enough with this smothering shit.”

Dick watched the cat flop down against the pillow with a strange mix of anger, grief, and exhaustion. The bed looked way too comfortable, and hell if he was going to let Jason monopolize it. He collapsed with a frustrated growl and let the mattress swallow him up. “You are such an ass,” he said to the ceiling.

A minute later, Dick felt a warm furry body curl up against his side. Absently Dick reached out to scratch an ear.

They lay like that in silence, the only sound the ticking of the clock in the empty room. It wasn’t an apology, Dick knew. But maybe it was as close as they would ever get to one.

“Hey, Jay?” he asked quietly.

“What.”

Dick stroked between the cat’s ears. A low rumble had started in its throat. “You gonna be okay?”

Quiet. “I’d rather not think about it, honestly.”

That was more an admission than anything. And it broke Dick’s heart.

“But if I’m stuck like this, Cass is in charge of feeding me.”

Dick huffed. “You don’t trust me to feed you?”

“Dick, I barely trust you to feed yourself.”

“Yeah…” Dick sighed. “Damian was a little right about that.” His eyelids had grown heavy, and with the warmth of the cat against him, he let them fall closed completely. “At least a cat’s pretty independent, right?” he murmured as he drifted further toward sleep. “Come and go whenever you want. Sleep wherever you want. Drop dead things on the doorstep.” He grinned softly at the realization: “Not that different than human you.”

For a minute, Jason didn’t answer. Dick was edging into sleep when he heard a quiet: “Yeah. Guess so.”

Something about his voice sounded infinitely sad, Dick thought. He wrapped an arm around the small, furry body by his side, and fell asleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to the amazing [TheFightingBull](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFightingBull/pseuds/TheFightingBull) for the beta. :)
> 
> One more chapter to go!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... 2017's been a year. But I refused to let it close on this fic unfinished, and so here we are. :) Short and sweet, but hopefully worth the wait.

There was a moment when Dick woke, he felt inexplicably warm.

Not the kind of warmth you felt in the summer sun, or when the radiator was cranked on a cold winter day. The kind that didn’t fade—the warmth of living, breathing presence beside him.

That’s when he realized he had a cat snuggled to his chest.

For a moment, he wished he had his camera. Jason had gone full native feline, curled in a ball with his nose tucked under a lazy paw, completely out for the count. It was unreal, and freaking adorable.

Still half-asleep, he reached out to pet the cat’s head in a rough nuzzle. The furball responded by burrowing closer.

Unable to help himself, he leaned in and planted a kiss on the cat’s forehead.

The cat’s ear twitched. “Fuck off, Dickface.”

Utterly content, Dick curled up and let his eyes fall closed.

#

Minutes might have passed, or hours, but when Dick woke next… something was off.

He was wrapped in sheets, just like had been, cuddled and warm. An arm was around his waist, holding him close against a broad, muscular chest that rose and fell in a gentle cadence. In a haze of half-wakefulness, he opened his eyes to find Jason watching him contentedly under half-lidded eyes, still in a sleep haze himself. Dick cracked a smile. By old habit, Jason raised a hand to ruffle his hair.

A human hand.

Jason froze.

Dick’s eyes widened just a fraction.

Then Jason screamed bloody murder.

“What the fuck!”

He jolted out of bed, but his leg caught in the sheets and tumbled face-first on the floor. He scrambled to rise, and Dick’s heart pounded against his ribcage.

“I didn’t—”

“Did you—”

“It was an accident!”

“What the fuck!”

The bedroom door burst open. Tim tumbled onto the carpet, wide-eyed in terror, still in last night’s clothes. “Dick, I heard—what the hell!” His eyes darted to Jason, still wrapped in the bedsheet. “What the _hell_!”

“What the fuck!”

“Why are you naked!” Tim screeched.

“Stop screaming!” Dick screamed.

“What the _fuck!_ ”

At that point, Dick decided, the entire room devolved into a shouting match. Jason was yelling at him, he was yelling at Tim, and Tim was yelling at both of them. For good measure, Titus came barreling down the hallway barking at full volume, followed by a sleep-addled Bruce who’s face turned white as Jason’s sheet when he caught sight of the scene. He promptly yelled at all of them indiscriminately.

Just when Dick didn’t think it could get any worse—

“Grayson!”

Damian stood stock-still in the doorway, slack-jawed and still in his Wonder Woman pajamas. It was adorable, but only took a moment to become hell incarnate as Damian’s voice rose to join the fray to accuse him of betraying their family’s honor with a miscreant thug.

He could never be sure afterward, but under the chaos of screamed profanities, Dick could have sworn he heard Hal and Cass laughing like maniacs in the outer hall.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed this fic with me, and to [TheFightingBull](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFightingBull/pseuds/TheFightingBull), for being there to hear my crazy. :) You guys are awesome. <3
> 
> -  
> Dedicated to the memory of our gentleman cat Jackson, and to Bandit, his (sometimes nutty) canine.


End file.
